


they don't know about us

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Episode: s04e48: Mark, au: the boys get their shit together, be the soft trash you wish to see in the world, did somebody order a sappy kiss, time skip: 6mths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: A lot can change in six months.





	1. mark

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [desperately wanting (mark/damien playlist)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/361308) by mostlikelydefinentlymad. 



 

 

Mark talks about Damien.

Out loud when he's dreaming, to the cashier who naively asks how he is, to Joanie when she encourages him to sign up for Instagram and post his photographs. To a waitress when she flirtily questions why he's eating alone. To Sam as they have a heart to heart regarding the status of their relationship.

Doesn't mention Damien when they agree to stay friends.

Everyone else brings him up when Mark doesn't. 

"It's been six months," Joan says. "You've made huge strides in every aspect of your life but this one. Mark, I'm concerned."

"He could be happy." Rose tells him as they walk through the park, coffee in hand. "He's a smart guy, Mark. He'll find his way."

When he namedrops Damien around Adam and Caleb, Mark sees vivid colors. Ugly rusted red, the blackest night, purple- the color of bruises. They remind him of Damien dying on Sam's couch and everyone watching as Mark begged for them to save Damien. He apologizes and leaves early. 

Chloe has been home for six days when she knocks on his door. She mentions Damien and cheerfully announces that her powers have returned twofold but she has them under control. She forgives Damien for being "incapable of taking no for an answer," and wants to know if Mark has encountered him since that night.

"Sam didn't tell you?" 

"About what?" 

"Uh shortly after you left, we broke up. It was-"

Chloe frowned. "You and Damien or you and Sam?"

"What? We were never...um... _him._ It got pretty ugly and I told him to get out. I don't really know where he is now."

"Are you okay?" 

Is he okay. 

He chuckles dryly. "I'm not drinking anymore, I have my own apartment and I pay a man $150 to listen to my problems biweekly," he says. "I don't know what  _okay_ entails but that's the long and short of it."

She smiles, he makes a pot of tea and lets her assume  _okay_ doesn't include Damien. It kinda does. He was Mark's catalyst as Sam would say. Shouting at Damien in his apartment and crying in the taxi afterwards was equally cathartic and devastating. He'd doubled back on scotch and drowned himself in cliche breakup ice-cream until he'd had enough. Said  _fuck it_ and asked Joanie for help.

Six months out now- single and stone cold sober. 

Fucking dreaming of him. 

Thinking of him.

Obsessing.

Damien in memory is as headstrong as the real deal and he's consuming Mark.

* * *

 

The internet is a beautiful creature. 

You can order a massive bag of dehydrated marshmallows and have them in hand within less than a week. 

You can Skype with your sibling when she's out of town. 

You can use a credit card and track down a person. Address, phone number, the works. The GPS on his phone can direct him to which road he should take and what freeway. It's a dream. 

Damien is living in an apartment complex in Nevada and has been a resident for four months. 

Mark pays his bills, leaves a note for Joanie (God, she'll be pissed), fills his car with gas and hits the open road. He snaps photos along the way and posts them to Instagram with vague captions- his shadow in the sunlight with  _'ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?'_ His hand on the wheel at a red light with  _'what I want.'_

The last shot is a purposely blurry apartment complex with the name cropped out. Caption:  _'D.'_

 

 

 

 

...tbc

 

 

 

 


	2. damien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien answers a knock at the door.

 

 

 

 

Sending Mark as The AM's ambassador is the coldest act of cruelty Wadsworth has ever enacted. Tormenting Damien for months under the threat of capturing Mark again wasn't sadistic enough apparently. No, she had to one up herself and drop a bomb on him six months after the fact. 

Damien's stomach lurches when Mark smiles. Too much sunshine and in it, so much that does not belong to Damien. 

"Which one of Wadsworth's minions sent you and how did you find me?" he demands, blocking the entrance.

Nothing belongs to him. Not the apartment with its succulents on the windowsill, not the late model gas guzzler in the parking lot, not even freedom or even Mark. The AM has made that blatantly obvious. 

Mark's smile quickly fades into wounded anger. "I _am_ capable of making my own decisions Damien," he says venomously. "As for the last part, I didn't involve anyone else so can you _please_ just fucking chill and pretend you're just a _little_ happy to see me?" 

Damien's stomach lurches and his palm sweats where it's clenched at his side. The AM sent Mark and trained him well. He worked for them once before, tortured other atypicals, conveniently omitted the pertinent details when he told Damien about his time there. Naturally they'd send their very best. 

No, no he was their prisoner. Wadsworth is the enemy here, not Mark. 

"I am, I- I..." 

"Hey..." Mark says, concerned. "Are you okay? You look...I don't know. Blank?" 

Present day snaps back when Mark touches his shoulder, causes him to flinch.

"Don't touch me," he growls. "You shouldn't even be here."

Anxiety seeps into every cell in his body and spreads rapidly like poison. If The AM is tracking Mark, he will have led them right to Damien's doorstep. They'll swarm the building and apprehend both of them. Joan will coerce Green into smuggling Mark out but Damien will die in that place. 

Jesus, when did the apartment _shrink?_

When he wasn't looking? Wasn't prepared? When he was distracted by Mark? Four beige walls close in on Damien and he can smell the industrial strength floor cleaner, the lingering notes of Wadsworth's perfume. He can feel the cold metal against his wrists. Cuffs rattling, his teeth chattering, Wadsworth sneering as she taunts him- 

"No," he says, breathing hard. "No," more firmly. "No you can't be here. We- you have to leave. I'm not going back to that place, Mark. Not even for you. She- she-" 

_Breathe._

He can't. They're probably on their way. He has to be ready. If he can make it to the bedroom there's a bug out bag under the floorboards. He'll have to leave Mark behind but if he's the reason they found Damien then it's in his best interest to part ways. Again. 

_Breathe._

"Okay," Mark says calmly. "We're going inside."

He latches onto Damien's arm and locks the door behind them. Leads him to the sofa. Damien immediately fumbles for his hand and grips it hard. Mark is his touchstone when the world decides to spin in the wrong direction. 

"You need to breathe," he continues. "Try to find your focus. God, Joanie is so much better at this. Um, close your eyes and picture something calming."

Damien dredges up a hotel in Texas, greasy pizza, the television playing a Friends rerun. Rachael gets off the plane, Mark hums the theme song and rambles on about The Rembrandt's. Damien asks questions about the plot and characters just to keep him talking. He falls asleep to Mark raving about Tom Selleck in an earlier episode.  

Everything is golden. 

 

After a long moment he opens his eyes to beige walls.

They're not clinical white and there are no machines here. No beeping or blood pressure cuffs. No tacky sponge painted hotel walls or upbeat music. 

 

"You okay?"

_Mark._

Mark with his face scrunched up in concern and hand clutching Damien's. He looks scared and small and Damien knows- Mark would never betray him. 

"You came back," Damien whispers. His heart stutters in his chest at the thought of Mark driving to Nevada for  _him._  

"I'm sorry," Mark murmurs. He gently strokes Damien's inner wrist. Thumb over pulse, back and forth. Is this what it means to comfort someone? To selflessly give of yourself and ask for nothing back? This is what Damien should've been doing when Mark needed him.

But how do you offer something you've never known?

"I tried to call you about a week after but the number had been already disconnected," Mark continues. "And your apartment was empty. Joanie said if you wanted to be found, you would've left a note."

"You said there was nothing left for me there," Damien reminds him. "You made it clear that I didn't even have you." 

That was the crux of the problem wasn't it? Damien pleading for him to stay was a revelation for both of them. _This_ , it said. _T_ _his is more than want. This is explosive and you are not a careful person._

"I had no choice." Mark inches closer. Perhaps for comfort or perhaps he wants to see how close he can get before Damien shuts him down. 

"You-"

"No, let me finish. Remember how I said they'd come after you if you stayed? I had people to keep me safe," Mark explains. "But you only had me and I was in no condition to protect you, Damien. Wadsworth would've taken you and buried you ten feet under the facility. She would've hurt you to get to me." 

Damien swallows past the lump in his throat.

Mark once accused him of only caring about himself and he'd shouted back at him-  _I worry about you, _achingly honest. For the past six months he has worried himself sick over the possibility of The AM claiming Mark and what about his nightmares? Does he wake up alone in Sam's empty bed? Does she remind him to eat? He forgets frequently. He hates waking up alone. 

 

His mind is still full of Mark. He'd nearly lost a job because of it.  But he's here now and stressing over Damien. 

 

"If I'd had my ability..." Damien offers.

"You would've stayed," Mark finishes. 

"-because you wanted me to." 

Mark frowns. "Guess we lucked out there." 

Damien intertwines their fingers. He's not sure whose hands are trembling more. They've toed this line before but circumstances were never ideal. Damien is out of his league here and haunted by the notion of Mark leaving him again. But the door remains locked and Mark is still pressed against him on the sofa. 

"You could've came with me," Damien replies. 

"Joanie would've had a conniption. You know how she gets."

"Does she know you're with me?"

Mark chuckles. "Yes and no. I left her a note but I didn't tell her where I was going until last night. And before you get up in arms about it, I used a payphone and I didn't give her specifics. She wasn't too thrilled about, well, you."

"Mm."

Some things never change. 

"And what did you tell your girlfriend?" The thought of Samantha kissing Mark and waking up next to him every morning makes Damien sick but someone has to be realistic here. He's not worth much but that doesn't mean he has to settle for being a replacement.   "Can't imagine she'd be too thrilled to find out you're hanging out with your ex- uh, that you're- here. In Nevada." 

"Not my girlfriend," Mark says.

"I don't understand."

"It was a mutual decision. We haven't been together in months, Damien."

"What does that make me?" Damien wonders. "Your rebound?"

"Yes Damien, because I like driving by myself for two days. God." Mark snarks. "No, you asshole. You're the first."

"The first."

Mark needs to start making sense. 

"You're my white knight in a weird sort of way. Sam- Sam was the princess and I'm not cut out to be a pri- okay, this metaphor is getting out of hand. It's you, okay? I've had six months to think about it and yeah...trust me on this." He squeezes Damien's hand and smiles- too much sunshine.

Just the way he likes it. 

"Jesus..."

"Yeah, so-"

"Hey," Damien says.

Mark turns his head and licks his lips, gaze dropping to Damien's mouth and back up slowly. His chest is a forest of butterflies, a free fall.

"Hey," he whispers. 

His hand shakes as he brushes his fingers down Damien's cheek and leans in for a kiss, slow and deep. Want and need coincide, intensifying the feedback loop between them. Hands scrabble for purchase in shirts and wind through hair as the kiss turns heated. 

"Will you stay?" Damien asks when they come up for air. 

Mark nods and shoves him down against the sofa. 

* * *

 

Joan refreshes Mark's instagram and pours herself a glass of scotch.

The most recent upload is a photo of intertwined hands on the armrest of Mark's vehicle with a sliver of the windshield showing. The caption reads:  _roadtrip - take II_ followed by a series of colorful heart emojis.

She'll take the time to congratulate them after she strangles Mark. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this took 50 years to finish (:

**Author's Note:**

> I've rewritten this concept at least 6x. posting this chapter to hold myself accountable, aaahhhh.  
> commitment problems? me? pfft.
> 
> title: "they don't know"  
> artist: ariana grande 
> 
> anyways I love damien gorham and he deserves good things ❤


End file.
